An entry for a fanfiction contest. We'll see how this goes. I do not own Soul Eater.

The halls of the school are her playground, her castle, her sanctuary. Young and naïve, she makes believe that she is a great warrior like her mama, strong and sturdy like her papa. She fights off evil spirits and witches, never afraid of what lurks in the shadows of the enormous building. Her parents love her dearly and have difficulties parting with her. They themselves are young. And so they bring her to the school as per her request. The school still needs them and pulls them away from their daughter. She doesn't mind. It gives her time to explore and grow. And meet her destiny.

The ribbons in her hair fly wildly as she swings a stick around, pretending it is a beautiful scythe meant to collect the souls of the recently departed. As she fights her way through hordes of invisible foes in the empty hallways, she hears a familiar voice. It is the founder of the school, the Grim Reaper, Death himself. His voice is kind and informative, not near as frightening as his name would suggest. Curiosity kicks in and pushes her to follow Death's voice. He sounds as though he is giving a tour of the school. Finally she can see the voice's owner, leading a group of four. She assumes they are mother, father, and sons.

It is the youngest that stops her in her tracks. He looks around nervously, taking in his surroundings as if memorizing ever nook and cranny. The boy sighs and runs a hand through his peculiar white locks. Suddenly he looks up, crimson eyes meeting her emerald ones. His stare holds her there, unsure if she should say something or leave him be. A smile creeps across his face, showing pointed, shark teeth to her. She shivers slightly, frightened by the boy. But she is a warrior like her mama, strong and sturdy like her papa. This is a battle she is not going to lose. And so she sticks her tongue out at the boy to hide her fear and continues collecting souls with her trusty scythe, leaving the boy far behind her.

...

The days turn into years, and soon she walks the hallways once more, hopeful and anxious. No longer her playground, the school is her home, her provider, her protector. And she trusts it to help her become a great warrior like her mama, to find a strong and sturdy weapon like her papa. She will not settle for just any partner, she thinks as she recalls her days of spinning stick-scythes. And so she keeps on walking, waiting for the day her provider brings her a partner.

The walking never ceases though. The search continues for days, weeks even. Just as all her hope is almost lost, she hears it. The tinkling of piano keys under the hands of a master. The promise of hope. She follows it and finds a boy, eyes like sunsets, and hair like starlight. It never crosses her mind that they might be the same boy. "I'm Maka," she greets. "I'm a meister. And you are?"

He flashes jagged teeth at her, corners of his mouth turned up in a grin. "Soul. I'm a scythe." And that is all it takes for her to fall into him completely. She reaches out her hand, reaches with her soul, puts every bit of faith she has into him. He takes it, takes it all, and takes a silent oath to stay by her side forever and always.

...

The school becomes her hideaway when angry words are shared and fragile hearts are broken. She looks out over the balcony to watch the lazy sun sink below the horizon line, its fading light setting the sky ablaze. Tears stain her cheeks, and as much as she wants to be alone, she wishes he was by her side. Her soul calls out to his, hoping they can mend what has been broken.

Loyally, he joins her side and stares out over the city with her. The Nevada night grows colder, and so he wraps her in his jacket, his silent apology. No words need be said. Just the thrum of their souls dancing in resonance, the beating of hearts, the sounds of breath, they are all enough for her. She leans into him, content. He tries his best to hide the heat radiating off his face, but she catches it too soon.

Some days she is not a warrior, and some days he is not as sturdy as she had hoped. But they are not her mama and papa. They are Soul and Maka, weapon and meister, loyal and caring partners. Moments like this remind her that they are nothing like her mama and papa. And she can accept that. She falls even more deeply into him, enjoying the sensation. She thinks that she could get used to the constant feel of his soul reaching for hers, the assurance that no matter how far she falls, he will always be there to catch her.

…

The school is her chapel as she waits outside his door. Too knowledgable to be a believer usually, she finds herself begging to whatever higher power will listen to her humble prayer. "Do not take him from me," she pleads. It is all her fault. If she had just moved, attempted to defend herself, he would not be like this. She can only imagine him, body sliced open on the operating table, slowly dying. And it is all her fault.

Whatever god was out there, it had not been kind to her. It had made her wonderful mama leave her, made her sorry excuse for a papa stay with her, had robbed her of turning her weapon into a Death Scythe and had let harm come to that same partner. But it had to save him. She offered everything she had in exchange for his safety. He had to be okay. He had promised to stay by her side forever. He just had to be okay.

The door swings open slowly, causing her to lift her head from prayer. The doctor turns the screw in his head a few clicks before motioning her to follow him. He lights a cigarette and takes drag. His silence kills her. A lump forms in her throat. He must be gone, that is what Stein has lead her away to say. Finally he looks at her and smiles. "He will be okay." His words loosen the lump and cause a wave of emotions to overcome her. She falls to her knees, taking his lab coat in her hands, and cries. He waits and watches as she silently thanks whatever god had answered her prayers. She is eternally grateful.

…

The silent after-hours of the school house their secrets. Her father would never approve. But she doesn't care. She has him, and he is all she will ever need. His hands reach for hers under desks during class, she whispers sweet nothings as they walk through loud, crowded halls. And once the classrooms have emptied, there are times they stay late into the evening, pretending that they can be open about their relationship in the daylight. He holds her hand and squeezes three times. "I love you." She squeezes back four times. "I love you, too."

It surprises her when he squeezes back twice. When she looks at him with confusion, he simply says, "Thank you." Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for loving me.

She smiles and squeezes once. "Quite," she explains. He laughs at her response and kisses her lightly on the lips. All is right with the world. She could stay in the moment forever, just the two of them alone in the dark.

…

The school is now a battlefield. Fists shake angrily, voices raised and laced with venom. A mission gone awry, incomplete but with no harm done to weapon or meister. And still they stand there, opposite ends of an empty classroom, throwing blame back and forth. "If you would just follow orders for once, we would have completed the mission flawlessly!" she screeches, flinging a textbook at him.

It barely misses his head and thuds against the wall behind him. "Your orders could have gotten us killed!"

"It would have worked out fine! It's what my mother would have done!"

"Newsflash, Tiny Tits! You are not and never will be your mother!"

He does not mean to sound as harsh as he does. In all honesty, she could never be like her mother. And that is fine. She is a strong and sturdy warrior, and she does it without being like the woman she looks up to. But she doesn't hear the words he means to say.

"So I'm a shitty partner, is that it?" she spits. "Maybe we shouldn't be partners anymore. I know about the letters from all those other meisters. You'd be better off with one of them, wouldn't you?" She does not wait for an answer. "We're done here..." she whispers angrily, tears stinging her eyes and threatening to spill over. And so she leaves. And the school becomes their grave.

…

Enthusiastic party-goers enter the school, now their party venue. She fidgets with the skirt of her dress, watching all the couples sway back and forth to the beautiful waltz playing in the background. Her heart is heavy, weighted with words she had never meant to say. Her soul reaches out longingly, hoping he is reaching, too. Parties were never his cup of tea, and so she convinces herself that he will never show up, that it is time to give in and go home. Why would he come back to her at all?

And then she feels it. A light brush against her soul. She hears the familiar tinkling of piano keys from so long ago. The sounds a master makes. Suddenly she is a small child again, meeting him for the first time. Crimson meets emerald, and the world stops spinning for just a moment.

And the school becomes their new beginning.